The woman shook her head tenuously, as if she feared that her fine gray curls might be disturbed or that she might wrench her neck.
Annie reminded herself that in a way Rose, as a tenant, was under her care.
She held out the basket of tea bags. “Please? I could tell Rex’s presence upset you. I’m so sorry. He’s Kevin’s brother-in-law. Perhaps you didn’t know that . . .”
Pursing her thin lips, Rose took the basket from Annie. In order to do that, she’d opened the door a little wider, affording Annie a quick peek inside and revealing something surprising: a large dollhouse sitting on top of the desk.
Adollhouse?
Next to that was the window that had a lovely, deep window seat. Which seemed to be covered with . . . rocks.
Rocks?
Annie was baffled. She managed to quickly avert her gaze and offered Rose her best effort at a warm smile. “Maybe I misunderstood. But I hope you can join us for dinner. I meant to invite you earlier, but we got caught up in the preparations.” She inhaled deeply. “You can smell the turkey roasting up here, can’t you? We have quite a spread—too much food, of course—but we’d love to have you with us. You can sit between Kevin and Taylor and keep them from spatting. Or sparring. Or whatever it is that they seem to enjoy doing.” She’d tried to be humorous, but Rose didn’t change her bland expression.
“Thank you for the offer,” she said in a hushed tone. “But I have correspondence to catch up on.”
Without a doubt, it was a veiled excuse. “It will just be us.”
“And a stranger,” she blurted out.
“Well, Rex has helped a little with the cooking, but I’m not sure if he’ll stay to eat. Do you know him, Rose?” She knew she shouldn’t pry, but how could she help if she didn’t know what the problem was?
With eyes turned downward, Rose seemed to quiver. “H-he . . . ,” she stuttered, “he reminds me of someone I once knew. That’s all.”
Annie’s writer’s imagination supposed that the person Rose “once knew” had either disappointed or betrayed her. Or maybe died. Any of those explanations would make her reaction understandable.
“Well, if having him around bothers you,” Annie said, “Kevin will watch out for you.” And she knew that Kevin especially would. Because he was a sweet, gentle man. And the best brother ever.
“What time?”
Annie was surprised at the about-face. “We actually had a conference about that last night—sometimes we make a big deal out of things that don’t really matter.” She hoped she sounded upbeat and carefree. “Anyway, we decided on two thirty. I have no idea how we came up with that. When I’m in the same room with Kevin and Earl, I easily get confused.” None of that was true; Claire had been the one who’d suggested the time long before they’d known that all the troops—except John’s girls—would be there. But the image seemed to please Rose, who appeared to relax a little. “You’re really most welcome to join us.”
Then Rose paused and rubbed her hands over her forehead, and her expression went back to being bland. “I’m sorry, but I have a Zoom event then. But thank you.” She paused, then decisively shut the door.
Annie stood there a moment, trying to discern what on earth had happened. She didn’t want anyone to be anxious about living at the Inn. Maybe she shouldn’t have meddled. “I’ll put a tray at your door,” she said, elevating her voice. “If you don’t want it, leave it. But if your plans change, please come downstairs. I think you’ll especially enjoy Francine and little Bella.”
That time, Rose didn’t reply, so Annie headed back to the stairs, deciding that if Rose had wanted her to know more, she would have told her. Besides, if Annie felt that any trouble was brewing with her tenant on account of Rex, she could always ask Claire, who pretty much knew everything that had happened, or might happen, on Chappy.
Then again, maybe Rose was just painfully shy—an outdated term Annie had learned in grad school in a class on the psychology of children.
Stop poking into other people’s lives, Murphy suddenly whispered.This is not one of your books. And, frankly, my dear, Rose Atkins is not one of your characters.
Despite the admonition, Murphy laughed, so Annie did, too. Then she skipped back down the staircase. A turkey dinner, after all, awaited.
Chapter 7
Merriment lit up the great room like the luminous swath of the Milky Way when it painted the night sky over Edgartown Harbor. Kevin and John tossed witty barbs at each other throughout the meal; Claire admonished them as if they were ten and should “know better”; Earl chuckled and asked Francine to please pass the sweet potatoes. As the curious writer in residence, Annie was content to sit back and quietly celebrate the antics of these wonderful people that she’d both inherited and welcomed into her life. Taylor and Rex—the Winsted siblings—were quieter than the others, but they commented on occasion, and for the most part they answered questions directed at them. Annie wondered if brother and sister had made a pact to maintain a congenial decorum, at least in front of the others.
Bella looked adorable in a pumpkin-colored dress and matching tights, her black eyes shining, her ebony hair having grown into thick, dark curls. However, if there were awards to give out, she would have received one for being the loudest, as every so often she let out a squeal that prevented anyone from forgetting she was there. Finally, Francine took her into the kitchen to peruse the cupboard in the chef’s room where the toddler’s toys were conveniently stashed. Bella toted one of the yarn-haired dolls Claire had made for her back to the table. Then she climbed into her high chair and proceeded to feed it a full meal that ended up on the authentic hardwood planks that Kevin had insisted on and had spent many days and nights on his knees hammering into place.
Annie was glad that before they were seated, she’d fixed Rose a plate and left it at her door. Even if Rex’s presence hadn’t put her off, the boisterous partying would most likely have overwhelmed the woman.
All in all, the company was amenable, the food was five-star (thanks not only to Rex’s green beans but also to several innovative tweaks he’d applied to other dishes), and no one had room left for pie.
After dinner, Claire and Taylor cleared the table; Claire informed the men that they were in charge of the cleanup (including the dishes) and that the ladies would go for a walk.
Annie didn’t object. She figured it was probably wiser for her to leave the Inn than go upstairs, snoop to see if Rose had brought the tray into her room, and subsequently stick her nose once again where it did not belong. Or, as old islanders called it, to “stick her oar in someone else’s water.” Then Annie wondered if being patient and simply letting things happen would forever challenge her.
